No, Never Recovered
by LadySkywalkerKirkland
Summary: When someone fakes their own death in front of their best friend in order to get the most believable reaction, something is bound to be lost. And whatever might be regained, it will never be entirely recovered. No, never recovered. [cover art by dyingsighs, who inspired this fic in the first place]
1. Deception

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _The Clone Wars_ or these characters.

**A/N: **Requested by/volunteered for my friend dyingsighs on tumblr. I was originally going to do a couple of random one-shots, but then decided I'd rather make it more structured, so I decided on 3 chapters so I could better show their respective POVs at the same point in the timeline. This first one takes place during "Deception." I plan to have this fic complete within the next couple of days; the past few weeks have been a totally crazy kind of hectic.

* * *

Nothing cements the idea of _my best friend is dead_ quite like a funeral pyre.

It was one thing for all the warmth and life to go out of them, leaving only a shell that contained nothing of them, however much it might look like them.

It was quite another for someone who had just yesterday been warm and solid and _there_ and _Master_ to suddenly be reduced to tiny particles of ash that could be scattered with the softest breath and never all recovered.

No, never recovered.

He had not expected to be this empty.

Anakin knew himself, and he knew he was more mature than many on the Council often gave him credit for (though if he was being honest with himself, a little less defiance and a little more control would probably go a long way to proving that), but even he was surprised.

It had been different when his mother died.

_A hole in my soul where the suns used to be._

He had expected pain and rage. Red and black in his vision and the sapphire blade in motion, now _too much_ an extension of himself as it exploded with the destructive force of the sorrow of one who loves too deeply to be allowed to carry such a weapon peacefully.

He had expected nights lying awake again, at the horror that was a blur, a blur of pain and rage and _I killed children._ Desperate nights, lonely nights desperately trying and failing to remember each one because surely he must owe them at least that much.

But this. This wasn't right.

Not that he expected it to feel _right_, as such. His mother's death had hardly felt _right_.

But this. This didn't even feel real.

What did they expect? The ones who were talking. The ones who worried. Tears and revenge? Loud and awkward and uncomfortable and demanding to be heard, demanding to be comforted, a typically-Anakin kind of grief?

Maybe if another hole had been ripped out of his heart, then yes.

But there couldn't be Anakin-shaped grief until there was an Obi-Wan-shaped hole.

And he couldn't feel it, not yet, even though, logically, he knew it must be there.

So he ignored the talks and whispers about how disturbing his behavior was and watched the pyre-stone sink beneath the floor of the funeral chamber, and knew that soon there would be nothing but ash. Ash that can scatter, lost forever and never recovered.

No, never recovered.

* * *

He dreamed of his Master's death for the first time in years on the third night in prison and he was not quite sure why now, of all times.

The realization struck him in the cafeteria on the fourth day, and he cursed himself for not making the connection sooner, even as the old ache crept back up into his lungs and squeezed. Squeezed so hard he feared his ribs would break from the pressure and the whole mission would be for naught. Even so, he was forced to tuck his face into the crook of an elbow and fake a coughing fit brought on by the horrible food, to give himself time to furiously blink the tears away.

Tears? He was stronger than that.

Wasn't he?

It was a pain he'd learned to live with – and then learned to _live_ without. Learned to go about his business – about the joy and pain and endless days of living – free of guilt for not being sad enough. But he'd never be quite the same Obi-Wan that he was before Qui-Gon died.

Never quite as mischievous – not so much of a clever-boots, not anymore. Never quite as curious. Never quite as open, and much, much more polite.

It wasn't that he minded this Obi-Wan, the now one. But there were times when he remembered the little differences that had been stolen from him, the little joys and the simple fun that would never be recovered.

No, never recovered.

His stomach really did rebel against the toxic prison food this time with a sickening wave of _what have I done?_

He had been more than reluctant to take on this task, but, at the time, his thought process had leant more towards how it wasn't _fair_ to Anakin to put him through this sort of emotional turmoil just to get a believable reaction.

He'd thought the worst that might happen would be a bit of a temporary loss of trust. It would be painful and awkward and he would probably be guilty for years to come about the whole business, but it would pass, and then everything would be the same.

Except that it wouldn't be the same, if the crucial cornerstone of Obi-Wan's _everything_ wasn't the same.

That night he thought about what _he'd_ lost, and he couldn't stop himself from shaking at what little (but not really little, no) pieces he might still lose.

He imagined a soldier who was less easygoing and friendly with his men.

A strategist and mechanic who was suddenly less creative and more conventional with the way he fixed things, be they engines or enemies.

A young man who was less inclined to stand up for himself against unfairly harsh criticism, who was less insistent that his voice be heard.

A boy whose sheer childlike delight in the wonder of _flight_ was suddenly somehow less-than-perfect. _Oh Force no not that _anything _but that._

What might he lose that might never be recovered?

No, never recovered?


	2. Friends and Enemies

**Disclaimer: **Nothing you see is mine, except for the arrangement of the words.

**A/N: **"Complete within the next couple of days." bwahahahaha I'm so hilarious sometimes. Seriously though, why do I EVER say stupid things like that? Urgh. Anyways, here's the part for "Friends and Enemies," complete with Anakin's heartbreaking tendency to come up with headcanons where his fellow Jedi don't betray him. (*sobbing quietly in the corner*) Also, to answer one question, this fic is only meant for the Deception arc and I will be skipping "The Box" because Obi-Wan at least doesn't get much angst in that one (instead he just gets to be a badass and we get one of my favorite lines in the entire _series_ from Cad Bane...but I digress). Please enjoy!

P.S. I know TCW was aired on a kids' network and didn't always animate injuries that well even when they did (it was my _only_ complaint about the animation in later seasons), but we adults know after that beatdown Anakin would've at _least_ had an epic black eye and some rib bruising...or something...(not an expert on martial arts/unarmed combat)

* * *

Had it been any other situation, Anakin would have laughed, and smirked, and chided his Padawan gently about the importance of awareness, with just enough of a playful edge to let her know he was more amused than angry.

Yes, if this had been an ordinary battlefield.

(And when exactly that had become a normal, everyday, non-horrific piece of his existence – now that was something he couldn't really put a date to. Or really cared to think about at all.)

But it wasn't an ordinary battlefield, and it wasn't another situation, and despite how funny it might otherwise had been that Ahsoka had just _dropped_ him, the reason she'd done so still had him occupied.

He imagined it had something to do with the look on his face, the shocked-epiphany look of sheer _oh_ that was so unlike the cocksure, play-it-cool young Jedi Knight who did his best to keep his moments of caught-off-guard to split seconds.

_Obi-Wan's death didn't rip a hole in your heart and didn't feel real because it wasn't real and Obi-Wan isn't dead._

Oh.

That actually made a lot of sense.

But what had been up with that funeral, then? Sure, he hadn't been able to bring himself to look at the body, but they'd _burned_ a body, right? Burned it to ash. A human body, about the same size and shape as Obi-Wan? Someone had to have known. The _Council _had to have known.

They'd let him think his _Master _was _dead_.

Anakin fisted his hands in his grimy hair, trying and succeeding in coming up with at least seven scenarios in less than a minute in which Obi-Wan was not, in fact, in on it. One of them even involved Master Windu being the secret Sith Lord (which would, among other things, explain away his unnecessarily strong dislike of the Jedi's Chosen One), who was using secret Sith mind control techniques to convince the other Council Masters to fake Obi-Wan's death and keep him locked away forever because anything, _anything_ was better than the alternative because Obi-Wan wouldn't _leave _him like that. He would've understood if Obi-Wan had been dead, he really would, because Anakin hadn't gotten there in time, he had _failed_ his Master, he hadn't been watching the sniper closely enough. Obi-Wan (and Ahsoka and Padmé and Mom) was only mortal, after all, and might not be able to help being killed without Anakin there to protect him. But Obi-Wan was family (even if Obi-Wan, being a perfect Jedi, wouldn't admit to that), and family don't just _leave_ unless they just don't care, and all of a sudden old fears and old worries and _Master Qui-Gon, sir, why does he hate me?_ are coming up for air out of the sea of memory and his breath is coming short and fast and –

And Anakin winces and clutches a hand around his ribcage and forces himself to calm down out of the pure practicality of bruised ribs and pain.

He brushes off Ahsoka's concern and tries to think of what to do next. He could follow the escaped convicts, but he doesn't know where they're going and it's a toss-up what sort of useful information he'd get out of them anyways.

_Don't follow me._

Or he could go to the Council with this revelation and demand answers.

Anakin remembered the fragility of bones burned to ash.

The Council had attempted to set the truth ablaze, and Anakin was hardly about to sit around to see what he could see. If he'd been betrayed by his brother, he wanted to kriffing _know_. It was time to gather up the pile of ashes before the Council could blow on it harder than they already had. Even so, Anakin knew with a twistingly familiar bitterness that he would never be allowed to figure it all out. For him, the truth could never be completely recovered.

No, never recovered.

* * *

"Hey, what's wrong with you?"

Obi-Wan finally managed to still his violently trembling hands by clenching them together and shoving them in his lap. He was mildly surprised when, upon his attempt to speak, a halting, stuttering voice actually revealed itself.

"Nothing. I-I'm fine."

Bane didn't look convinced, but he just tugged at his hat and headed further down the walkway with a mutter of _idiots who lie about killing Jedi cause when they actually face one, it scares 'em to all nine hells_.

Well, Bane was right about one thing.

Obi-Wan was scared. And at this point, he wasn't entirely sure that he wasn't an idiot, either, for not flat-out refusing to take on this particular mission.

He hesitated a moment before opening his hands and fearfully examining one little spot on the second knuckle of the index finger of his right hand.

A spot that looked like blood. His _Padawan's_ blood. He had beaten his _Padawan_ senseless.

This had gone far enough.

It would be foolish to change course now, certainly. At this point, he might as well sit and wait and see what the mastermind had planned and do his best to fulfill his task to the best of his ability. He could do no more damage now than he had already done.

But if he _ever_ came into conflict with Anakin or anyone else he knew and cared about, he was going to end this, right then and there, and damn the consequences. Never again would he let his reason and sense of duty overcome his heart in the heat of battle, as was his wont. It was only natural – after all, it sometimes seemed as though he were Anakin's exact opposite in every way.

_Anakin._

Obi-Wan clenched the fist that bore the condemning stain, and tried and failed not to think about how it had felt to have to give as good as he got – no, better – just to knock the younger Jedi out, because as much as Obi-Wan would've liked to have held back, Anakin certainly was not, not in the midst of his legendary rage.

How many times had he punched Anakin in the face before he'd flipped him? Twice? Three times? Four? Obi-Wan had lost track of the number, but not the sound. It was at that moment that something had broken inside Obi-Wan, and it had been all he could do to see the fight through to the end, because it was at that moment that the pitch of Anakin's voice had changed subtly, from the normal grunts and gasps of brutal unarmed combat to just a hint of "scared boy in pain."

_Scared. Still just a boy. His boy. In pain. Pain he caused. With his own hands._

Obi-Wan wondered what it must have felt like to be the kind of Master who had never beaten his Padawan senseless. He had thought, at his age, with what he'd seen, he didn't have any innocence left to lose.

He had been wrong.

And innocence, once lost, can never be recovered.

No, never recovered.


	3. Crisis on Naboo

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _The Clone Wars_.

**A/N: **Finally finished! To reiterate, I don't plan to continue this beyond the Deception Arc, and I skipped "The Box" because while Anakin does learn new things there, Obi-Wan is pretty preoccupied with surviving, so I'd have to come up with something out of thin air and I'm afraid I'd probably just end up repeating myself from previous chapters. I mean, who doesn't like endless angst? But my dignity as a writer keeps me from writing the same thing over and over again. Thank you all for all the wonderful reviews! Please enjoy this final aftermath, complete with RotS foreshadowing, because this arc clearly needs more feels than it already has.

* * *

The city of Theed at night in the springtime was one of the loveliest times and places in the entire galaxy that Anakin had ever known. The haunting beauty of the towers and cobbled streets in the silent, deep blue of Nubian midnight suited the young Jedi's melancholy perfectly. At any other time, he would have been lulled into a gentle, refreshing sleep by the cool breeze that wafted through the open balcony doors of the spacious bedroom, bringing with it the soothing rumble of the waterfalls.

As it was, the peacefulness of such a beloved setting was the only thing tempering his restless frustration, keeping him lying awake in bed rather than pacing awake in a seething cloud of hurt and betrayal.

Well, the beloved setting and the beloved lady breathing softly by his side.

Careful not to wake her, Anakin shifted over onto his side and gazed at her, trying to let the sight of her wash away his distress, her perfect skin nearly glowing in the moonlight and her dark curls tumbling haphazardly across the silk pillowcase.

Anakin shuddered to think what state he would have been in if this misadventure hadn't ended on Naboo, if he hadn't been able, at the end of everything, to reassure himself that there was at least one person in his life who would never betray him like that.

_It was my decision to keep the truth from you._

True, he hadn't been comfortable (which was putting it very mildly) with Padmé's decision to flirt with Senator Clovis for a week _for the Republic_, but that had been different. He had known exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it and had been by her side the whole time. And, to her credit, his wife had done her best to assuage the jealousy that he couldn't help feeling by reassuring him as many times as he needed to hear it that she had no feelings for that awful, slimy, cowardly excuse for a man.

Padmé may have had infinite devotion for her Republic, for democracy and for her ideals, but somehow he knew that if it came right down to it, if she were truly offered a choice between him and the Republic, she would refuse to make that choice and proceed to save them both.

After all, his angel could do anything.

But Padmé wasn't a Jedi. True, she often acted more Jedi-like than her husband, but that was out of her own choice and personality – which made all the difference. There was no pressure on her to ignore the emotions that plagued all ordinary sentients.

Anakin wondered if Obi-Wan even felt that pressure at all, after all these years. Did it come as naturally to him now, as breathing?

True, his former Master, _his best friend_, had seemed a bit troubled by the fact that he had had to lie to Anakin in order to best fulfill his mission. He had seemed upset at the distance this had created in their friendship.

The more Anakin thought about it, the more wrong it felt. If Anakin had been put in a similar situation, he would have refused, not on _consequence_, but on _principle_; not because he was afraid he'd strain a relationship with a friend, but because that's _not_ how friends treat each other.

So how long had it taken Obi-Wan to come to the decision?

_It was my decision to keep the truth from you._

Had it been split-second, based on years and years of Jedi training? Had there been any conflict, any deliberation, any war of heart and mind?

How quickly had Obi-Wan decided it was okay to rip Anakin's heart out in order to make an act more convincing, in order to catch some criminals that, honestly, he probably could have stopped himself?

Anakin rolled back over and stared out the open balcony doors at the stars and thought about the way he always described his trust in people, whoever it might be: _with my life._

Could he still trust Obi-Wan with that? On an ordinary day, on an ordinary battlefield, yes, of course, but…

The whisper shifted in on the cool night breeze.

_But when will the Council ask again for him to choose? Any time, any day. Whenever they see fit._

_And you know who he will choose._

_Not Anakin, no. Not Anakin._

* * *

Obi-Wan was out of his element. He had never faced anything quite like this before.

He had always known, as all Jedi did, deep down in their hearts, that the Master-Padawan bond was a bit of hypocrisy, a bit of twisting of the rules against attachment.

Or a lot of ignoring of those rules, depending on the pair; it varied. Obi-Wan didn't have to think very long about what kind of pair he and Anakin were. Or he and Qui-Gon had been. Or Anakin and Ahsoka were now, for that matter.

But he had never really thought that this kind of conflict could arise from that kind of attachment. They were all Jedi. They all knew what they had to do. They served the same goals and the same purposes; they had all been trained in the same teachings.

Then why had what he'd done felt so _wrong_?

Obi-Wan shifted on his pallet in his sparse quarters in the Jedi Temple.

Probably because Masters and Padawans and friends among the Jedi were used to the idea of temporarily letting go of their attachments to each other in order to fulfill their duty.

Using a Padawan's attachment to his Master against him in order to achieve a goal, though – it was deceitful. Underhanded. Wrong.

Obi-Wan ran his hands over his stubbly chin, wincing as the habitual gesture sent ripples of pain through the tender nerves of his renewed face.

This time, it could have been avoided. They hadn't known, but they could have pulled off a rescue without lying to Anakin, and perhaps without Obi-Wan going undercover at all.

This had been a nebulous threat. They had gone way overboard just because they didn't know just how big the plot was at the beginning.

Hindsight is always clearer, after all.

And Anakin's trust in him and in the Council had been shaken, cracked, maybe even a little broken. In fact, Anakin had even lumped them together – something he had never done before. Obi-Wan had always been different from the rest of them in Anakin's mind; that much was obvious. But not anymore.

_How many other lies have I been told by the Council?_

Obi-Wan renewed his resolve that he had made after having to fight his own former apprentice. He would never do something like this again. No, if it came down to a choice, a real choice, not a vague collection of whispers and what-ifs, between Anakin and the Council, he would choose Anakin.

That wasn't what worried Obi-Wan.

What he couldn't seem to get Anakin to see was that _mortal authorities_ weren't the only things that people followed. Obi-Wan certainly didn't defer to the Council because they were the Council.

He would be a poor former Padawan of Qui-Gon Jinn if that were the case, as Anakin seemed to believe.

In truth, he deferred to Council members like Yoda and Windu because most of them had been on the Council when he was a Padawan, and it was the respectful thing to do, and they usually shared the same perspectives as Obi-Wan anyways.

What Obi-Wan _followed_ was not any one person or group of people, but the values of whose truth he had been utterly convinced, and – to the extent he could discern it – the will of the Force.

If the Council ever truly stepped out of line with regards to that, they would have to do it without Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He worried because he knew, deep down, that Anakin's conflict with the Jedi High Council was far from over. He knew, deep down, that eventually it would stop being about authority and stupid rules and _why don't they trust me_ and the truth would come out about differences in perspectives and ideals.

The truth would come out that Anakin's values lay in entirely different places than the rest of them.

What Obi-Wan worried for was the young man's future. When the storm broke, would he be able to remain in the Order peacefully? Would Anakin be able to stomach having to deal with those of the Jedi who, like Obi-Wan, did happen to fit nicely into the old teachings, and might have a hard time understanding him? Would the rest of the Jedi be able to stomach agreeing to disagree with Anakin? Would he be expelled, or leave of his own choice? And what outlet would Anakin find then for his towering sense of justice, his drive to go forth and right wrongs?

Obi-Wan knew that, when the time came, he would support whatever decision Anakin thought was best for him. It would be rough, but he hoped to be able to stand with Anakin and defend him against some of the censure that was sure to come.

He was sure that, whatever Anakin did (he couldn't imagine anything other than Anakin being the catalyst), probably, if he were being honest with himself, also involving a certain Nubian Senator, he would be able to regain Anakin's trust enough to stand with him.

Certainly, Obi-Wan could never imagine a situation where he'd have to stand _against_ him.

No, that would never happen.


End file.
